


Of Unsound Mind

by legendsandlor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Medic is a good dad, Neck trauma, Second opinion, Self-Insert, Unstable Medic, im scared but also excited, medic tf2 is my dad and that’s facts, the mentions of violence are brief but still very intense, this is a multi chapter fic! My first one actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-11-02 12:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendsandlor/pseuds/legendsandlor
Summary: Medic worries that he’s too unstable for his daughter.





	Of Unsound Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my TF2 fic! Warning—the “Chemist” mentioned in this story is my self-insert, so I feel you’re not a fan of that, you might not like this fic. Also, I’m very bad at writing accents, so please be gentle. Constructive criticism is welcome! Have fun!
> 
> Translations  
Maüschen—little mouse

Ever since he had discovered that Chemist was his daughter, Medic could see more of himself in her every day. Though she wasn’t as unhinged as he was (and though Medic wasn’t religious, he sent up a thanks for that), he could still see some insanity in her. The way her eyes lit up with a crazy glow as she threw a smoke bomb. Her yells after an enemy had been killed. Her ever-growing smile whenever he Uber-charged her. Every day, he saw something new that made his heart swell with pride.

He’s terrified that he could ruin it.

It’s Halloween, and yet again, Merasmus has demanded retribution for Soldier’s roommate antics. The team’s suited up, in their ridiculous costumes, and they’re currently on the battlefield. Foolishly, he decided to wear Second Opinion. He can hear its—no, _his_—voice whispering in the back of his skull. What’s worse is that he keeps agreeing with it.

“Kill them,” it hisses, voice laced with venom, “kill them _all_.” He finds himself nodding, and he has to force his gaze away from Scout and back onto Merasmus, his knuckles white around his bone saw. The battle is chaotic, as it always is, and Medic uses the familiar disorder to ground himself.

“Dad! Look out!” He hears his daughter’s voice beside him, and suddenly he’s being pulled away into an alleyway. A magic blast lands in the spot he once occupied, and his heart stutters as he registers it.

He turns to Chemist. Her witch hat is gone, her dress is ripped at the ends, and she has blood running down her face, but Medic doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to see her.

“Maüschen! Oh, are you alright?” He puts his hands under her chin, lifting it up to examine for injuries, but she just sighs. “I’m fine, Dad, but I appreciate it. Merasmus is just bein’ a prick, but what do you expect?” He can’t come up with a good answer, and instead just brings her into his arms, his hand petting her hair.

“Kill her.”

His eyes shoot open. No. No. He can’t... she’s holding him, and she’s completely defenseless, and the voice is...

“Kill her, Doctor. You don’t need her, do you?”

“I...I do need her...” He mumbles pathetically, hoping she doesn’t hear him. She relaxes even more into his embrace, and Medic has to resist the urge to snap her neck.

“Oh, what for, Doctor? Are you afraid you are going mad? Is _she_ the only thing keeping you sane?” As if to taunt him, his hand jerks from her hair to her neck.

“Don’t! Please!” Chemist jerks away from his embrace, startled by his outburst, and Medic thanks whatever deity responsible. “Dad? Are you...feeling right?”

His hands are shaking, he realizes, and he can’t tear his eyes away from his trembling digits. Chemist is saying something, but he doesn’t register it. It’s only when she hooks her hand into his that his brain finally catches up to him.

“_Kill her!_”

In a flash of movement, his bonesaw is pressed against her neck. The only thing stopping him from slitting her throat is her knife held firm against the handle of his saw. Her eyes are wide with fear, but Medic can spot a hint of hardness in them. He smiles far too wide, and he pushes his hand forward, relishing the hint of red dripping down the girl’s neck.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you, Chemist.”

She flinches at the use of her code name, but she recovers quickly. “Because,” she begins, her voice shaking, “you don’t want to, and you know it.”

It’s like the wind blows out his sails, and the fog clears. The saw drops to the ground with a thud, and Medic collapses to his knees. “Dad!” Chemist cries, but he can’t answer. He can’t touch her. He can’t be near her. She’s not safe, he realizes, and he wants to scream. Second Opinion doesn’t make him crazy—it simply expresses the well-repressed thoughts he already has. And it forces him to act on them.

He can hear cheering in the distance, signifying that the team won. He feels arms wrap around him, and he tries to move away from his daughter’s embrace, but she holds him too tightly to. She talks to the rest of the team, and lies about what happened. “Oh, Medic just isn’t feeling right. Merasmus might’ve cursed him, that asshole.” The team laughs at that, and they go back to their normal base activities. Chemist leads her father to his room, sets him on the bed, and locks the door. Mustering up all her willpower, she looks him in the eyes.

“Father,” Medic flinches at the formality, “we need to talk.”


End file.
